


How to Get Engaged in Six Hours or Less

by daisyridlay



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Sam Wilson, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Borderline crack, Bucky is a little shit, Clint Barton is a Disaster, Cruise Ships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Sam Loves it, Sexual Humor, Super Competitive Antics, being bi is the best, regardless of what fic i am writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-02 05:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyridlay/pseuds/daisyridlay
Summary: “Tell me about it,” Bucky grouses. “Natasha and Clint are great friends, but Natasha won’t stop trying to set me up with her coworkers.”Sam smacks a hand down on the counter. “You’re telling me. All I hear from Steve is about who’s available at work. I don’t care, I’m not interested. If I wanted a date, I would go out and get one myself, you know? I don’t need help.”AKA Sam and Bucky pretend to be really into each other then accidentally end up reallyreallyinto each other. And get engaged. And married. On a cruise ship.





	1. third-wheelin'

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a real-life post from tumblr that i can't find anymore cause my tumblr was terminated :/
> 
> i started this fic over three years ago and it's still not finished, sadly. but i decided that it was so funny other people really deserve to be able to read it. i will be uploading more chapters over the next short while as i proof them. i am, i promise, trying to finish this story.
> 
> anyways, please enjoy what i have written of this iconic comedic duo!

“Do you think you can stop fussing over me like a damn mother hen for one minute?”

Natasha Romanoff, clad in a stylish floral-print dress and tan sandals, her rich red hair curled to perfection, presses her lips together in a very thin line. “I’m just saying James, I hope this vacation does you some good. You need to loosen up a little, and you certainly aren’t going to get any of that done while you’re off being a workaholic without me to stop you.”

“I don’t need to get laid to loosen up,” Bucky retorts, dragging the stupid wheely suitcase thing he’d borrowed from his sister across the bumpy ground. He’s got another two bags of Natasha’s wedged under his arms, which makes speedy movement difficult. “And it’s a work vacation. Sort of. I’m only gonna be gone for a month or so.”

“Excuse you. If I was suggesting that, and I’m not saying I am, getting laid is the definition of loosening up. I just think you could benefit from some company that isn’t me or your little sister.” Natasha purses her lips at him, her judgemental gaze peering over the tops of her shiny blue sunglasses as he scowls at her.

“That. That is not true. I take full offense from that. And anyways, you’re the one who invited the Work Friends, so who are you to call me out on who I spend my time with?”

“Work Friend singular. And I seem to remember you being very keen on those pictures I showed you of Steve before we found out he was taken.”

“Well. I mean. Look at the guy. That was just a given.”

Steve the Hot Coworker had been a really fun time for him and Natasha, mostly because Steve was the kind of guy who introduced himself with the fact that he was bi and then sort of dared you to say something negative about it. He had, according to Natasha, a legitimate bi-pride flag pinned up in his wallet next to the picture of his girlfriend.

Bucky wasn’t quite sure if he believed her about that one, but there may or may not have been a few days of crushing disappointment once Natasha had found out that Steve was in fact dating a very cute British girl who also looked like she could kick Bucky’s ass.

“Anyways, Steve says he’s bringing a single friend, so--”

Bucky cut her off with a sharp jerk of his head as she waved down a cab. “God, Natasha! I told you to leave it alone. When are you going to stop trying to set me up with people?”

“When you stop moping about like a sad, lonely human being.”

A cab pulled up, so Bucky went to put their luggage in the trunk. Once ensconced in the backseat with Natasha, he turned to face her and said, very seriously, “You gotta promise me you aren’t gonna try and set me up with this friend, alright? I’ve had it. I’m done with blind dates and ‘group outings’. I can live vicariously through you and Clint if that makes you happy.”

“That makes me creeped out, actually. Don’t do that.” Natasha crinkles her nose at him. Then she sighs. “Fine. I won’t push it if he doesn’t seem interested.”

“Promise, Natalia,” Bucky insists.

She rolls her eyes at him. “I promise I won’t try to pair you off for the duration of this cruise. Happy? You know I’m only doing this because I care.”

It was as good as he thought he’d get out of her, really. “Okay. Good.” He pulls back to relax against the cheap cab seat and stare out the window for the rest of the ride.

* * *

Sam Wilson has one neatly packed sports bag slung over his shoulder as he trails behind Steve and Peggy, who are bickering good-naturedly about something as they take sips from their shared, eco-friendly coffee tumbler.

He’s trying not to be irritated, because Steve had sworn to him that this was not going to be a vacation that featured Sam Wilson the Third Wheel, but Steve and Peggy tend to get starry-eyed when they spend too much time around each other. Or at least Steve does, because Sam is sure that if Peggy Carter asked for a billion dollars, Steve would find a way to get it, logic be damned.

“So who else is supposed to be coming on this trip?” Sam interjects when their conversation lulls, because Peggy had sprung the tickets on him due to the fact that her friend Angie had come down with the flu or something like that, so he had no idea who else was coming. Sam was taking a full week off of work for this, and while his boss wasn’t very happy about it, Sam had enough clout in the workplace as well as plenty of vacation days saved up that ‘no’ wasn’t really an option.

“Natasha, from work,” Steve says. “And her boyfriend Clint.”

“Great,” Sam says, a tad sarcastically. “So I’ll be fifth wheeling instead of third wheeling?”

Steve shakes his head. “Well, no. Natasha said her friend was coming? Bucky Barnes.”

“Even better.” Sam wants to throw his hands up. “So I’ll be bunking with the guy whose name sounds like a cartoon character’s.”

“Not nice,” Peggy says sharply, not even bothering to turn around.

Sam sighs, because his parents raised him better than to be rude about someone he hasn't even met yet, but he really is a little annoyed.

“He might be really nice,” Steve says earnestly. “You could hit it off.”

“No!” Sam nearly shouts, startling some people nearby and possibly everyone else within a block radius. “Enough. No more of this. I told you guys I'm not interested in dating right now.”

“You're so dramatic,” Peggy huffs. “We're just being good friends. And you didn't mind some of the dates we picked for you.”

It was true. Sharon, Peggy's cousin, was a pretty great girl. They had a nice run for a few weeks before Sam had broken it off. And the dates weren't the problem. All Sam's dates were smart, attractive, and funny, but there just hadn't been that spark. Sam hadn't felt that spark since Riley, and he was tired of chasing after it. He'd decided a few months back to cool it on the dating front until he felt more comfortable with opening up again, and while Steve and Peggy were respectful of that, it didn't mean they hadn't stopped commenting on potential partners for him.

Steve gives Sam a shrug, but his eyes are concerned. Sam loves Steve, he does, but Steve is as bad as Sam's mama when it comes to fussing.

“No fussing,” Sam insists to them.

Peggy snorts and links her arm with Steve's, her curly ponytail swishing. “Dramatic,” she repeats.

Sam stews in his own irritation until they reach the docks, where they have to stop and check in with their tickets. Honestly, he deserves a vacation, so he is going to enjoy the hell out of pampering himself for a week.

* * *

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Clint says, when Bucky and Natasha show up at their designated meeting point. “I was trying to call you, but I keep getting no service here.” Clint is wearing a bright purple shirt with white flowers patterned on it, and neon pink cargo shorts that hurt Bucky's eyes. Why Natasha doesn't disown Clint based on his poor fashion sense alone, Bucky has no idea.

“I told you to come an hour early because I knew you'd be half an hour late,” Natasha answers briskly, pulling a ticket out of her purse and handing it to him. She also plants a kiss on his cheek. “Just like I didn't let you keep this.”

“Smart,” Bucky comments, pawning off Natasha's extra bags onto Clint, who struggles manfully under their weight.

“I am a responsible adult,” Clint complains.

Natasha raises an eyebrow at him. “Did you or did you not get here half an hour ago?”

Clint opens his mouth for a whole second before he wisely shuts it. Bucky laughs at him all the way to the ticket taker.

“How's Lucky?” Bucky asks as they wait in line.

“Good,” Clint replies cheerfully. “Katie's got him for the week.”

“Bet she's pleased,” Natasha says wryly.

Clint scowls at her. “Stop encouraging her to steal the affections of my dog. I’m the one who got us these cheap tickets!”

“_Thanks for the cheap tickets_,” Bucky and Natasha chorus together.

“I'd bury my head in my hands, but I don't have any appendages free for that, so you'll have to settle for this.” Clint sticks his tongue out at them and blows a raspberry.

“Really mature, Barton,” Bucky groans. “Now I've got your spit all over me. Remind me why we’re friends?”

“It's alright,” Natasha says, smirking. “Wait until we reach the stairs.”

* * *

Arriving extra early meant that they beat the rush of people checking in.

Sam sometimes wants to thank Steve for waking him up at ungodly hours every day during college, because it really does make getting up at normal-people early times seem like a piece of cake. But then Sam remembers jogging outside at the asscrack of dawn as Steve laps him again and again, yelling snarky comments every damn time, and all the fuzzy feelings die a quick, painful death.

“Can't we take the elevator?” Sam asks plaintively, eyeing the massive amounts of stairs. It’s not that he’s lazy. It’s just. A lot of stairs. A ridiculous amount of stairs.

“No elevator. Scared, Wilson?” Steve teases. Peggy is already marching up in her kitten heels, one bag balanced on each arm. Steve adjusts his suitcases under his unfairly large biceps while Sam frowns.

“Last one up buys drinks, boys!” Peggy crows at them.

Sam facepalms. “Oh my god. You two deserve each other.”

It is then that Steve grins widely like the maniac he is, and then proceeds to _ jog _ up the stairs with both hands full of luggage.

“You're an _ asshole_!” Sam shouts, past caring who is staring at them.

“Asshole with _free_ _drinks_,” Steve tosses back, already halfway up the steps.

Sam curses and begins the trudge. If he's gonna be last anyways, he's gonna take his sweet time with this.

* * *

The ticket line was long, and Bucky feels his legs cramping as he leans against the railing, looking down at Clint.

“Stop trying to Snapchat my struggles!” Clint says desperately. Bucky and Natasha had taken pity on him, so now Clint only has two bags to carry. But considering how accident prone Clint is, Bucky is beginning to wonder if they should have taken all the bags instead.

Natasha, who is already at the top of the stairs, holds her phone out, grinning like a dork. “Come on, honey,” she coos. “Smile big for the camera.”

Clint pulls an exaggerated grimace and totters up three more steps.

“We're gonna be here all day,” Bucky complains, dropping his backpack by Nat's feet and going to help Clint.

“Loser,” Natasha calls after him. She's still filming them. “No fun, Barnes.”

“No fun when we have to miss our vacation to drive your boyfriend to the hospital,” Bucky replies.

“Not like it hasn't happened before,” Clint says sheepishly as Bucky takes a suitcase from him. “Thanks, man.”

“I'm doing this for purely selfish reasons,” Bucky tells him, hefting the luggage up the last dozen steps. “You're embarrassing us by holding up the foot traffic. And with your fashion choices, but that’s another matter entirely.”

“Maybe if he'd packed less Hawaiian shirts, he wouldn't have had this issue,” says Natasha, tucking her phone away. Her eyes narrow at Clint. “You didn't mess up what I packed for you, did you?”

“Nooooo,” Clint drags out the sound innocently. He sets his bag down at the top of the steps and wipes imaginary sweat from his forehead.

“He probably found a way to fit three more shirts,” Bucky says. “Although how one person can own so many terrible shirts is beyond me.”

“Oh, you haven't seen Steve's wardrobe yet.” Natasha shakes her head mournfully. “He dresses like he's ninety.”

“Steve looks better without a shirt anyways,” Clint says absently, swiping Natasha's phone and checking her messages.

Bucky stares at him. “You sure your boyfriend is straight, Natasha?”

“I don't know. You've known him longer than I have.”

“Yeah, for like, an extra ten minutes. Worst ten minutes of my life.”

Clint makes a noise of success. “Yes! Service! So Steve says they're already on board. We've got nice rooms._ Annnnd_. He said their other friend got sick, so they're bringing someone else named Sam, which means Steve and Peggy are bunking together instead, cause the new guy is a guy and not Peggy's best friend Angie. So like I guess he can’t bunk with Peggy cause that’d be breaking the bro code.”

“Awesome,” Bucky says, exasperated. “I get to bunk with a _ different _ complete stranger.”

“Stop whining,” Natasha chastises. “I asked you out to meet them so many times. It's your fault. And Sam is nice. And good-looking. He works out with Steve.”

Bucky glares at her, picks up his bags, and stomps towards the cruise ship. The effect is somewhat ruined by the fact that he has to stop to pull on his backpack and buckle the front strap. He’s not going to let Natasha’s nosy, matchmaking ways ruin his vacation.

* * *

“Natasha says they’re on their way.” Steve puts his phone back in the pocket of his plaid cargo shorts. The three of them are standing at the front of the cruise ship, looking out over the docks. 

“I’m surprised Clint didn’t make them late, what with the way Natasha goes on about him being a human disaster,” Peggy muses aloud. She’s pulled a thin cardigan on over her sleeveless blouse to buffer against the wind. Sam, clad in a grey t-shirt and plain tan shorts, isn’t too cold, but he’s certainly wishing that he’d thought to make some warmer clothing more easily accessible just in case. Everything in his bag is rolled into neat bundles to save space, and packed within an inch of its life.

“She’s probably got them on a strict schedule,” Steve says wisely. He reaches for the pair of sunglasses hanging from his shirt collar and puts them on. “Natasha’s sensible like that.”

“So, what’s this Bucky guy like?” Sam asks to no one in particular.

“No idea. Never met him.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly like this is no big deal. “I think Natasha mentioned he’s a workaholic.”

Alright. So maybe Sam was just gonna be stuck bunking with some guy who would be glued to his laptop for the duration of the trip. That would be acceptable. Not great, but better than many of the other terrible alternatives that he could picture. Plus, if the guy was a workaholic, Steve and Peggy would have to stop trying to pair Sam off and leave him alone.

“We’ll get him to loosen up,” Peggy decides. “This is a vacation, after all.”

“Hey, I think that’s them over there.” Steve waves his arm in their direction. “Natasha! Over here!”

“I’m gonna go grab us some drinks,” Sam says. “I’ll be right back.”

Peggy frowns at him sternly. “You’re not trying to escape, are you?” Her hands settle on her hips, and Sam has to resist the urge to immediately apologize even though he hasn’t done anything wrong (yet).

Hell yes, he was trying to escape. “I owe you guys drinks, remember?” Sam reminds her, a little too quickly.

She doesn’t say no, so Sam scampers off inside to find the bar, praying that it wasn’t too early for some beers.

* * *

Clint is taking about a dozen photos a minute as they approach the other half of their party. They'd stopped by their rooms to drop off their bags before heading to the front of the ship. Natasha had stolen a hoodie out of Bucky’s bag (she refused to touch Clint’s), to wear over her sundress. Bucky’s new roommate had laid his bag out in the center of the small room, which was nice because it meant he was at least considerate enough to not hog a bed just because he’d gotten here first.

Bucky plasters a polite smile on his face as Natasha introduces him to Steve and Peggy, who seem like a fairly nice couple. They certainly look very good together.

“James Barnes,” Bucky says. “But I go by Bucky.”

Steve shakes Bucky’s hand in his much larger one, and Peggy offers him a kiss on the cheek, which Bucky accepts.

“Where's Sam?” Natasha asks.

“At the bar,” Steve says, laughing. He and Peggy exchange a look, like they’ve got some inside joke going on.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Bucky says. “I'll be right back.”

“Get me a soda!” Clint says, gesturing with his hands and moving aside so he can take a picture of Steve and Natasha with the blue sky as a backdrop.

Bucky waves him off. “Buy your own sodas, Barton!”

Wandering back inside, Bucky follows the signs towards the closest bar. He orders a beer and hands his card over to the bartender, who swipes it and passes it back.

“Never too early for a beer,” Bucky tells the bartender sagely, and raises his glass in salute.

The bartender smiles flirtily at him, but Bucky isn’t in the mood so he turns away. There’s not too many people here yet, but Bucky makes eye contact with a guy a few seats away, and they do that thing where they nod at each other. The dude is nursing three beers though, so Bucky slides over a few seats to ask him about it.

“Rough day?” Bucky questions snidely, his eyebrows raised.

“You would think so. These are actually for my asshole friends.”

Bucky thinks hard on that answer. “Oh. Hey. You wouldn’t happen to be Sam, would you?”

Maybe-Sam looks at him carefully, and Natasha was sort of right because Maybe-Sam is definitely attractive. “Are you Bucky or Clint?”

“I’m Bucky Barnes.”

“I’m Sam Wilson.”

Bucky grins and props his elbows on the bar counter. “So. Tell me about your asshole friends. I have the feeling we’ve got a lot in common already.”

“They ran up the stairs after check-in and made me buy them drinks cause I came in last,” Sam laments, still annoyed. “Steve fucking ran up them like his life depended on it. And they also make me play third wheel on every single group outing we’ve been on, which I would not mind so much if they just left me alone.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky grouses. “Natasha and Clint are great friends, but Natasha won’t stop trying to set me up with her coworkers.”

Sam smacks a hand down on the counter. “You’re telling me. All I hear from Steve is about who’s available at work. _ I don’t care_, I’m not interested. If I wanted a date, I would go out and get one myself, you know? I don’t need help.”

“Exactly, oh my god.” Bucky takes a drink, nodding along with Sam’s every word. “Like, even before we got here they were trying to tell me you were single, right, and like I already told Natasha to leave it alone. She even tried to set me up with Steve before she knew about Peggy.”

“Peggy set me up with her cousin Sharon,” Sam says confidentially. “Nothing against her-- she was really nice, but it wasn’t there. And I’m not looking to be attached right now.”

“God, I bet when they find out we’ve been at the bar together they’re never going to let us hear the end of it.” Bucky drags a hand down his face in disgust.

“I wish we had a way to shut them up,” Sam agrees.

“Honestly, couples are gross. I love my friends, but I'm damn tired of their relationships.” Bucky shakes his head.

“I know if I was dating someone they would leave me alone,” Sam mutters. “I almost didn't want to break things off with Sharon just cause I knew they'd be back at it.”

“I want them to feel all the misery they've caused me. Very acutely.”

“Give them a taste of their own medicine.”

“Exactly!”

There is a pause in which they look at each other appraisingly.

“Y’know what,” Bucky says thoughtfully. “I think we can make this bunkmates thing work in our favour, pal. In a ‘be careful what you wish for’ way.”

“Our room is right in-between theirs,” Sam adds, leaning in towards Bucky. “It'd be a shame if those walls were too thin.”

Bucky’s resulting grin is positively filthy. “It has been a _ long time _ since I've gotten laid, according to Natasha.”

Sam snickers at him. “Whatever you say, dude.”

“So you're in? This is go big or go home, Wilson. You up for the challenge?”

Sam drains the rest of his beer. “I'm up for whatever you are, Barnes. My personal goal will be to make Steve blush fifty times by the end of today as payback for the stairs.”

Bucky offers his fist to seal the deal, and they bump on it.

* * *

“Hey pals,” Bucky drawls, sauntering towards where their friends still are congregated near the front of the deck. “Look who I found at the bar.”

Sam takes a moment to openly admire Bucky's tight skinny jeans, and maybe it's not 100% for show because _ damn_. For a fake booty call, Sam thinks he's done pretty well for himself.

“Hey Sam!” Natasha smiles, her gaze flickering between the two of them. “The two of you seem to be getting along well.”

“Hey,” Sam says cautiously, a bit daunted by her enthusiasm. He's only met Natasha a few times, and she'd been scarily perceptive enough to spook him.

Bucky hums loudly and drags his gaze over Sam's body in a way that ought to be illegal coming from someone you literally just agreed to fake hookup with 20 minutes ago in a cruise bar.

“_Yeah_,” Bucky says, and what the fuck, how is his voice in a lower register already, Sam would like to know.

Peggy eyes him suspiciously. “I'd say so.”

Now Steve is looking at Sam with wide eyes, and Sam has to remember that he's playing it cool here.

“Got your drinks,” Sam says, holding out the beers.

Steve takes his, but his confused gaze is now fixed on Bucky, who is wearing a very self-satisfied smirk.

“Sam and I are gonna hit the pool,” Bucky says confidently. “Show off a little.”

No one says anything, so Bucky grabs Sam by the arm and drags him off to their rooms.

“That was hilarious,” Bucky says as soon as they are out of earshot. “Natasha looked like she was regretting it already. I haven't flirted that hard in months. I think she forgot what a sexy asshole I could be.”

“‘Sexy asshole’,” Sam repeats, just to make sure he heard right. “Do you call yourself that?”

“Only when I'm being a sexy asshole,” Bucky replies, unlocking their room. “Now put on your swim shorts, Wilson. We got some Baywatch to reenact.”

“Please no.” Sam shudders as he follows Bucky into the room. “How are we even supposed to make going to the pool annoying for them?”

“They’re gonna come watch, cause they can't believe it. And then you're going to openly admire my abs. And my ass.” Bucky tugs his backpack onto the left bed. “Door side alright?”

“Um, no,” Sam says.

Bucky frowns and looks up from where he’s digging in his backpack. “No to the door-side bed?”

“No to me drooling after your pale white boy ass,” Sam retorts. “I am clearly the hot commodity here.”

Bucky snorts like he's humoring him. “Yeah, okay.”

“You were the one who was checking me out back there,” Sam argues diligently.

Bucky turns big eyes and a dreamy smile (that is not attractive at all) on Sam. “So that means it's your turn to return the favour,” Bucky says triumphantly. Sam gawks at him.

Then Bucky starts to strip down in the middle of the room, so Sam has to angle away to look through his bag for his swim trunks because he is not playing this game with Bucky, no way.

Sam's trunks are plain black with white stripes down the side. Bucky's are ... the bright colours of the American flag. Because he is literally wearing swim shorts patterned with the American flag.

“Lost a bet,” Bucky explains when he catches Sam's incredulous stare.

“Okay,” Sam says, for the lack of a better comment.

Bucky peels off his white t-shirt to expose a whole lot of pale skin. And abs. He wasn't lying about the abs.

Well, whatever. Sam knows he looks good too, cause he's not the only guy who knows how to workout and then go shirtless at the pool. Ditching his shirt, Sam folds and rolls it up before placing it back neatly into his bag.

“Fancy,” Bucky says, and it sounds judgemental.

“At least I didn't bring a backpack,” Sam answers mildly. “For a second there I wasn't sure whether you were legal for beers.” Pulling out some sunscreen, he offers the bottle to Bucky, who is unimpressed at Sam's preparedness.

“You're just as bad as Natasha. I know I need sunscreen, okay. I get it.”

Sam's lips twitch at petulant expression on Bucky's face. “Sure you do. I'd love to see whatever tomato-red pics she got of you to warrant that look on your face right now.”

“You laugh now, but remember I'm the hot one in this fake relationship,” Bucky declares dramatically, tossing his bag back onto the floor. They make quick work of the sunscreen, and Sam refuses to deploy Bucky's suggestion of a white glob on his nose.

“Let's go before I also start to regret this,” Sam says.

Bucky pouts at him. “Not even an hour into our fake relationship and you're already tired of me? Must be losing my touch.”

Sam takes one look at Bucky, who is wearing his American flag swim trunks and has an unsmeared spot of sunscreen that he missed on his back, and thinks that Bucky Barnes is exactly the kind of boy his mama would tell him to avoid.


	2. boyfriend material

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My mom is gonna be thrilled. Well, about the marriage part, not the on-a-cruise-ship part. She's gonna be pissed about that. Her and Becca,” Bucky muses. “But y’know. ‘Yolo’.”
> 
> Sam pulls back a little to stare at him. “You did not just say that. You did not just talk about us getting married and ‘yolo’ in one sentence.”
> 
> “I didn't. That was like, at _least_ two sentences.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you haven't heard '[boyfriend material](https://genius.com/Ariana-grande-boyfriend-material-lyrics)' by ariana grande... you should go listen because that's the mood here. absolutely the mood.

The ship is already coasting away from the shore as Sam and Bucky emerge from the depths of the cabins, the two of them clad in their swim trunks.

“Hey Sam,” Bucky says casually. “Do you think I should wear my sunglasses? Or do you want to start by complimenting me on my beautiful eyes?”

“Put them on if you want. I'm not your mother,” Sam mutters under his breath.

“Romance is dead,” Bucky wails exaggeratedly, and Sam has had _ enough_.

“Pass me those,” he says, holding out a hand for the sunglasses. For some reason Bucky does, and then Sam promptly raises both hands and shoves him into the water.

“Jerk!” Bucky sputters as he flails back to the surface. “You're a jerk!” Sam is pleased to note that he looks at least a little upset.

“An hour into our relationship and you've just figured that out?” Sam asks him rhetorically. “I must be losing my touch.”

Bucky watches him with no expression for so long that Sam thinks that he fucked it up and now Bucky's mad at him. But Bucky's face splits into a huge, toothy grin, and he splashes some water good naturedly at Sam. “You're funny, Wilson,” he says, like he's pleased. “Now you gonna join me or what?”

Sam considers it. “You want your sunglasses back?”

“Just pass them here.”

Whirling around, Sam sees that Natasha has managed to sneak up on him yet again. He tries to seem relaxed as he hands them over, but he doesn’t think he succeeds very well.

“Play nice now,” she says, and now she's looking directly at Bucky.

Bucky salutes her, then dives back into the water to do a crawl stroke. Natasha stays for a few more seconds before she walks away, leaving Sam to try and interpret the strange look on her face.

“C’mon!” Bucky calls, snapping Sam out of his fugue.

Sam slips into the pool, and the cool water feels like a balm on his skin compared to the chilly winds and hot sun. He floats onto his back, allowing himself to relax a little.

That is, until Bucky swims right up to him and gets in his face. “Don't be boring,” says Bucky, peering at Sam with serious grey-blue eyes.

Sam wants to rub a chlorine-soaked hand on Bucky’s stubbly face. “I'm relaxing. It's what you do on vacation.”

“That's for boring people.”

“What do you want to do?” Sam questions curiously, turning himself upright. “Marco Polo?”

“Um, _ yeah_.” Bucky shrugs.

“You can't play that with just two people,” Sam feels compelled to point out. “That won’t be any fun.”

“Clint will join. Or Steve, maybe. I don't know him well enough yet, but it seems like his kind of thing.”

“Competition is his kind of thing,” Sam says. Just the word ‘competition’ is enough to induce flashbacks of past sporting events, and Sam shudders at the thought. “Do not encourage him.”

Bucky smiles again and tilts his head to the side like a puppy. “Worried I might kick your ass?”

Sam narrows his eyes. “I see what you are doing, Barnes, and it is not gonna work. I spent five years of college with Steve Rogers. I am immune to jibes about manhood and competency. I don’t fall for juvenile shit like that.”

“No fun,” Bucky complains, splashing at Sam. “You're supposed to be flirting with me,” he adds as an afterthought.

“I think your ego is over inflated enough as it is,” Sam tells him.

“It's part of my endless charm,” Bucky says immediately, running a damp hand through his soaked hair.

“I'm amazed Natasha thought she could ever find you a date.”

“Now that hurts.” Bucky holds a hand to his chest and floats onto his back. “You've wounded me.”

“Apologies,” Sam remarks sarcastically.

“Now you gotta make it up to me.” Bucky flips back up and paddles over to Sam so that they are nearly chest to chest, and it's close enough that Sam can see water droplets clinging _ everywhere. _

“If you are asking me to kiss it better,” Sam starts warningly, despite his suddenly shallow breaths. “You’ve got something else coming.”

“Nah,” Bucky says. “Just thought I'd give the goods a once over.” He places both palms on Sam's shoulders and leans in to whisper in Sam's ear.

“Clint and Steve are right behind you. Pretend I'm saying something dirty. Like how we're gonna fuck through the mattress later. Repeatedly.”

Sam chokes, though he's not sure why, because it wasn't like Bucky had been saying it in a suggestive tone. Maybe it was just the matter-of-fact way he'd said it.

Bucky rubs Sam's shoulders. “Great job,” he praises, smirking. “Now I'm gonna squeeze your ass.”

Sam is about to let out an annoyed protest when he remembers that they're supposed to be pretending. So instead he mouths ‘I hate you’ at Bucky as the asshole cops a feel.

“Love you too,” Bucky says cheekily as he pulls away, and Sam thinks he's having too much fun with this.

“Keep it PG in public, guys!” Clint says as he approaches.

Sam feels a little embarrassed as he looks at Clint and Steve. But Steve's face is all concerned again, which sticks Sam's gears like nothing else because he is a grown man and doesn't need his best friend always hovering over him.

“No promises,” Sam says suavely, and gives Bucky a smooth smile.

There's a bit of surprise reflected in Bucky's eyes at those two words. Sam puffs up at that, because hell yes he can be just as much of a smooth operator when he wants to.

Steve still has that crease between his brows. “Sam, could I talk to you for a minute?”

Sam hesitates and looks at Bucky, who shrugs. “Be ready to have your ass handed to you in Marco Polo when you get back,” Bucky tells them.

“Sounds great,” Steve says eagerly. “We’ll only be a minute.”

Sam exits the pool and follows Steve some steps away. Steve is fiddling with his hands, like he's trying to work out what he wants to say.

“Well, what is it?” Sam asks patiently.

“Listen. Sam. I know breaking up with Riley was real hard for you, and I'm glad to see you trying again with another guy, but I'm just worried that you might be jumping in too much with Bucky. I mean, he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who's gonna settle down, you know? And I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Unbelievable. Sam has to take a moment to process this. “So let me get this straight,” Sam says. “You spend two months trying to set me up with people, and when I meet a guy I'm actually interested in you give me a speech about moving too fast.”

Steve grimaces. “I just want to be sure you know what you're getting into.”

Sam thinks of Bucky's showy narcissism, and of the soft smile Bucky wore when Sam flirted back. He thinks of Bucky’s hair done up in that little bun at the nape of his neck, and the stupid Snapchat that Peggy had shown him of Bucky taking pity on poor Clint on the steps of the cruise liner. “I think I know exactly what I signed up for.”

“If you’re sure.” Steve is giving him sad eyes and Sam hates the sad eyes so much. He always feels like he’s an awful disappointment when he sees those eyes, regardless of the situation or who is actually at fault.

“Bucky’s a great guy,” Sam says, and he really does believe it. “I like him.”

“Okay.” Steve nods to himself. “Now let’s go back so I can win at Marco Polo.”

Sam groans.

* * *

When Steve and Sam get back, Sam immediately slides back into the pool and swims over to Bucky. “Hope you didn’t ditch me for Clint while I was gone. Because I am not teaming up with Captain Rogers.”

“Captain, huh?” Bucky gives Sam a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry. I wanna kick Barton’s ass as much as you wanna kick Rogers’.”

“Good.” Sam nods, satisfied. Then, at a louder volume, “So we playing points-system or what?”

“You two a team, then?” Clint asks, squinting at them. “Leaves me and Steve.”

Steve, to Sam’s dawning horror, has retrieved an inflatable ball from Peggy, who had been lounging by the poolside. “We could do something with this. We’ve got nothing for goals, though.”

“Dodgeball,” Clint suggests.

“No.” Sam immediately discards the idea. “No dodgeball. Especially with only one ball.” Dodgeball was quite possibly the worst sport on the face of the planet, purely because of Steve Rogers.

“Keep away,” says Bucky. “Less violent than dodgeball.”

“Dodgeball isn’t violent,” Steve says mildly, and Sam glares harshly at him.

“Maybe for normal people it isn’t,” Sam states. “And I don’t think keep away is much better.”

“Keep away!” Clint says excitedly. Steve agrees, which pretty much settles it despite Sam’s misgivings.

Steve offers Sam and Bucky first possession of the ball, to which Bucky scoffs and declines. “Don’t need your charity, Rogers. Sam and I are gonna school you guys so hard.”

“Do we get team names?” is the first thing Clint wants to know.

“We’re not doing team names,” Bucky answers flatly.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what Clint is going to say next. “But yours would be ‘Sucky’!” Clint exclaims. “Or ‘Sacky’. Both are equally terrible.”

“Clint is a menace,” Bucky says in a mock whisper to Sam, leaning over and cupping his hand over his mouth as his voice increases in volume. “Natasha dates him out of pity.”

“I have a great number of redeeming qualities?” Clint defends himself, sounding confused.

“Like your enormous collection of Hawaiian shirts?” Bucky asks rhetorically. “Because that alone ought to put you in the negatives forever.”

“He's your best friend, isn't he?” Sam comments, amused at their dynamic.

“Unfortunately.”

* * *

Sam and Bucky totally win at keep away, even though Steve and Clint are both cheating cheaters. Bucky hadn't thought that there were worst cheaters than Clint Barton, but Steve was just as bad, if not worse, than Clint, who had once cheated at tic tac toe.

Having demanded drinks as reward for their victory, Sam directs all of them to wash off the chlorine, and then back to their rooms to change into regular clothes. Steve doesn't complain, because according to Sam he’s a good loser, but Clint whines like a baby until they see Natasha and Peggy at the bar.

“Drinks are on Clint and Steve,” Bucky says immediately.

“Oh, goody.” Natasha rubs her hands together.

Peggy is grinning at the put-out look on Steve's face. “Sam got one over you? I wish I'd been there.”

“Let's get a table,” Sam suggests lightly, but he's practically oozing smugness, and it's pretty funny to see that coming from someone who Bucky has pegged as a humble guy. Steve must really push a lot of buttons.

They order a shit ton of appetizers to share, and they watch Clint and Steve race to see who can eat the most nachos in one sitting until Natasha puts a stop to it, saying that if Clint wanted to sleep anywhere near her tonight he wasn't going to have a single scoop more of extra hot chili salsa.

“You're all so mean to poor Clint,” Peggy jokes.

Bucky drapes an arm over Clint's shoulder. “Only cause we love him. And cause he got us these awesome tickets. Or is that the other way around?”

Sam cracks a smile at that one, even as Clint threatens to short sheet Bucky's bed and swap his wardrobe for floral print shirts and shorts.

“S’okay. Sam and I weren't planning on getting much use out of the extra bed anyways.” Bucky gives the table an exaggerated wink, making Clint groan.

“I forgot you were this awful,” Clint says mournfully. “How could I have forgotten?”

Steve's definitely blushing now, so Bucky side-eyes Sam to check in. Sam still looks entertained, so Bucky decides to up the ante.

“Can't believe you guys never introduced Sam and I earlier. I mean, how much time have I been wasting without this?” Bucky swings his legs up and promptly drops them onto Sam's lap.

“A footstool?” Natasha asks snidely.

“Made of boyfriend material,” Bucky announces grandly.

“That's an awful pun,” Sam remarks, but he seems unbothered. “And I don't appreciate being objectified.”

“Sorry, sweet cheeks,” Bucky says, intentionally dropping his voice again. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

“I can be bought with nachos and back rubs,” Sam says thoughtfully. “I'm a romantic, old-fashioned kind of guy.”

“Amazing,” Bucky breathes, like the mere thought of it fascinates him. In the corner of his peripheral vision Clint is starting to look vaguely ill, and Bucky hopes it's not just from the excessive amounts of salsa.

“You're nauseating,” Natasha says, covering Clint's eyes with her hand. “I don't think Clint is going to survive dinner at this rate.”

“How about _ dessert_,” Bucky purrs, his gaze not leaving Sam's, and he's pleased to see that his roommate’s pupils have dilated.

Sam seems aware of the awkward tension built up around them, and for a moment Bucky worries that he took it too far and Sam's gonna give up the game. But Sam's face maintains that cool, collected exterior as he reaches forward to tug Bucky closer, so that they're practically an inch from kissing.

“I dunno,” Sam says to him, very deliberately placing a hand on the back of Bucky's neck, curling his fingers around the damp nape where Bucky's hair bun begins. “Are you gonna prep it for me?”

And _ woah_, Bucky feels his eyes go wide as those words go straight to all the dirtiest places in his mind.

Someone behind them makes a strangled sound. Bucky doesn't get to turn around to see who it is because Sam is dumping his legs back onto the floor and pulling them both up and away from the table like they've got a fire lit under their asses.

“Later!” Bucky says cheerfully to their friends. Next to him, Sam is whistling.

* * *

Once ensconced in their room, Bucky sits down on the squeaky bed and raises an eyebrow at Sam.

“So now we're stuck in here until at least dinner,” Bucky states. “Remind me why I followed you here?”

“Because I'm the hot one in this relationship,” Sam says, sitting down across from him.

“Hilarious,” Bucky deadpans, but he’s smiling as he says it.

“Honestly, I'm a little surprised at how easily they bought that,” Sam admits. “I mean, Steve pulled me aside earlier to give me a talk about ‘moving too fast’, like he can't figure out that this was supposed to be a booty call?”

“Boyfriend material,” Bucky reminds him. “You should've seen Nat's face when I said that. I haven't had a friend-suffix anything for two years. I think she figured I was either really eager to get in your pants, or that I was actually serious about us dating.”

“Ok, that I can see. But I'm literally the most unlikely person to hook up after knowing someone for all of four hours. Steve’s known me a long time, but he was just like, going with it as soon as I told him to back off.”

“You’re the ‘most unlikely’?” Bucky echoes. “What about Steve?”

“Peggy,” Sam says, like this explains everything, and Bucky can totally see that so he nods.

“Maybe they figure it's just the vacation,” Bucky muses. “I mean, I've got a month-long work trip after this, so maybe Natasha thinks that I just wanna blow off some responsibilities before I go.”

“You? Irresponsible?” Sam repeats in mock surprise, leaning back like the notion of it is unfathomable. “No way.”

“Shut up.” Bucky tosses a glare at Sam. It's a sore spot for him, people thinking he doesn't have his shit together. “Not everyone's got their life _ folded _ and _ dry-cleaned _ into a box like you do.”

He can practically see Sam’s feathers ruffle at that, but Bucky’s still annoyed, so he bites his lower lip and stifles the apology sitting on the tip of his tongue.

“Ok,” Sam says, visibly calming himself. He’s staring at the wall just past Bucky's shoulder. “So what do you want to do here for an hour? It's not like they'll come to check on us.”

The temporary aggression in Bucky settles at Sam's tempered response. “Natasha is thorough enough to,” Bucky tells him, “but I don't think she’d just ditch the others.” Laying back on the bed, Bucky kicks off his flip-flops and stretches his body out across the mattress diagonally. “And I could go for a nap. I woke up way too early today.”

“You're telling me,” Sam scoffs, mirroring Bucky's position on his own bed. “Between Steve’s extremely early morning tendencies and Peggy's apparent lack of need for any kind of shut-eye, it's a wonder I haven't died of sleep deprivation yet. “

“Sounds fun.” Bucky yawns hugely, and it's only partly for show. “Set an alarm or something, would ya? I'm a heavy sleeper.”

“Course you are.” 

He hears Sam mutter a little, and then there is the sound of a phone being placed on the side table.

“Thanks babe,” Bucky mumbles, turning onto his left side and punching his pillow into shape with his right hand.

“Don't ‘babe’ me,” Sam replies, but his tone is mild.

“Night hot stuff,” Bucky says instead, and that earns a rich chuckle from Sam, so Bucky snuggles his pillow and lets his eyelids slide shut.

* * *

Bucky wakes up to Sam shaking him with two warm hands. Grumbling, Bucky rolls away, only to find that there isn't space on the small bed to do so, and that he is instead greeted with cold air and a nice view of his backpack, which is still lying where he dumped it on the floor earlier.

“Hour and a half,” Sam says in response to Bucky's bleary-eyed glare. “Up and at ‘em, Barnes.”

Bucky mutters a few curses as he sits up, rubbing at his face.

“Nice bed hair,” Sam comments, and when Bucky looks at Sam he can see that Sam has changed clothes. Purple is a nicer colour on Sam than on Barton.

“Ergh.” Bucky gets up and wanders over to his suitcase, tipping it onto the bed so he can zip it open and pull out a new shirt and pair of shorts. He strips down, not missing the way Sam turns to face the door as he does so. “And it's not bed hair. It's ‘_I had really great cruise liner sex_’ sex hair.”

“You're welcome for that, by the way,” Sam says jokingly.

“Oh my god,” Bucky groans, tiredly trying to work out the front of his shorts from the back. “What's next? Dick jokes?”

“Nothing's too juvenile for you apparently,” Sam snarks back.

“How are you this awake after a nap?” Bucky complains. He is successful with the shorts, and he reaches for his shirt next. “You can turn around now.”

Sam has his arms crossed, his expression mischievous. “I can go a lot more than one round before I get wrung out, Barnes.”

Bucky pretends to look around. “Wow. Are these bad jokes for my benefit alone? I'm honoured.”

“You're the worst boyfriend,” Sam tells him.

“I'm the best,” Bucky argues, struggling to yank his shirt down due to his lingering sleepiness. “I'm easy and everything.”

Sam sighs and actually shakes his head. “I really can't believe our friends think we're dating. You are not even my type.”

“Rude.” Bucky manages to tug his shirt down. “I'm everyone's type. I'm hot and funny and have great bedroom eyes.”

“I'll give you _ one _ of those,” Sam allows, after a moment's consideration.

“Oooh.” Bucky puts his flip-flops back on and runs his fingers through his messy hair. “Which one? Is it hot? I bet it's hot.”

Sam mimes zipping his lips shut. “I texted Steve. He says they'll meet us for dinner.”

“You zipped your lips. No speaking.”

Sam ignores Bucky, but holds the door for him as they exit the room. His strides are long enough that Bucky has to jog a bit to keep up.

“Where's the fire, Wilson?” Bucky asks curiously.

“I'm just hungry. We left before I could eat the rest of those nachos. Also, I am excited to see Steve's face when he sees your awful bed head.”

“Sex hair,” Bucky enunciates. “And my hair never looks awful. I use conditioner.”

“So what are we telling them? Are we dating now? Or just friends with benefits.” Sam changes topics so subtly sometimes, Bucky realizes. And it's nothing to do with fancy wordplay, it's just the way Sam controls his voice and tone that makes it seem casual and natural.

“Whatever you want,” Bucky says amicably. “I'm down for anything and everything.”

They continue to the buffet hall, Sam humming thoughtfully as he slows his steps to match Bucky's. “Whatever you think would shock them the most,” Sam decides.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Bucky begins offhandedly. “I feel like I oughta be buying you flowers. Or, y’know, putting a ring on it.”

“We are not getting engaged,” Sam says flatly, glancing around as though to make sure Natasha isn't going to appear out of thin air. Which, Bucky has to admit, is a possibility.

“I'm just saying. If we were in Vegas, that's what we would be doing. We'd just get an annulment afterwards.”

“I'm not getting divorced for a prank,” Sam tells him, stopping short and pulling them aside. “Vegas or not.”

“Annulment,” Bucky repeats. He's not even sure why he's pushing it, but Sam isn't saying 100% no yet, so. “Or just like, get some guy to _ pretend _ to marry us.”

“You're not serious.”

“Go big or go home,” Bucky reminds him. “We get them to believe us, they'll leave us alone forever once we let them know what idiots they've been. I've already got a history of impulsive decisions, so for me it's not that much of a stretch.”

“You want us to get fake-married as a _ joke_.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “You said you wanted to shock them. Don't you wanna ask Stevie to be your best man?”

“Oh my god, I cannot believe I am actually considering this with you.”

Sidling up to Sam, Bucky slides an arm around his waist and flashes a smile. “Is that an ‘I do’?”

Sam has buried his face in his hands. “My mama will kill me when she hears about this.”

* * *

“You what? _ You what_?”

Bucky is grinning like a loon, his arm still wrapped around Sam’s waist. “We’re gonna get _ married_.”

Sam is trying not to internally combust at the bug-eyed look on Steve’s face as he looks between Sam and Bucky, as though he’s waiting for one of them to confirm that this is, in fact, a bad dream.

“Was it that good of a lay or what?” Clint says incredulously. Natasha smacks his shoulder, but she’s smirking all the same.

“It was a great lay,” Bucky asserts, giving Sam the dorkiest pair of puppy eyes Sam has ever seen. This is no good. It’s already been well established (re: Steve Rogers) that Sam has a weakness for puppy eyes.

“Let’s get some food before we get into that,” Sam states, taking Bucky by the arm and guiding him to the buffet table. Bucky piles a ridiculous amount of chicken onto his plate, only acquiescing to some vegetables when Sam makes a pointed remark.

“We’re on a cruise,” Bucky complains as he adds green beans and broccoli to his heaping plate. “I’m supposed to be enjoying myself. And that means unlimited chicken.”

“Love yourself instead,” Sam says, holding his own balanced place of meat, veggies, and fruit, “and eat some vegetables.”

“You’re a grump. I bet Steve loves vegetables too,” Bucky taunts, and Sam rolls his eyes, refusing to cave in and give a response.

They make their way back to their table, and Sam is aware of how the conversation seems to die off as they get closer. Talking about them behind their backs, so not cool. Sam pulls Bucky’s chair out for him with his free hand. Bucky beams at Sam in response. Clint makes fake-retching noises in the background.

“So what’s your last name going to be?” Peggy asks seriously. “Are you going to hyphenate it or go the traditional route?”

“We are anything but traditional,” Sam says, just as Bucky says, “Traditional.” They stop and glare at each other.

“Oh boy,” says Clint. “Here we go.”

“I suppose you want your last name?” Sam asks rhetorically.

Bucky has a crease between his brows. “As a matter of fact I was gonna say Wilson,” he states stubbornly, crossing his arms and shoving himself further into his chair.

“Well, I was going to say Barnes-Wilson has a nice ring to it,” Sam allows, sitting down in the empty seat next to Bucky. Bucky immediately slides his chair closer and hooks his ankle with Sam’s, like he can’t stand to not be touching him for more than a few seconds.

“Bucky Barnes-Wilson?” Bucky asks, making a face.

“That sounds adorable,” Peggy comments, twirling the straw in what looks like a chocolate milkshake.

“Sam Barnes-Wilson,” Clint says, trying the sounds out. “Sam _Baaaarnes-Wilson_.”

Natasha taps a finger on her chin. “James and Sam Barnes-Wilson.”

“Am I the only one who thinks this is a little crazy?” Steve implores the table at large.

“Oh, it’s a lot of crazy,” Natasha admits, nodding. “But it’s nothing compared to our last vacation, really.”

“We all have _ varying _ opinions about what happened in Budapest,” Clint interjects loudly.

“We don’t talk about Budapest, apparently,” Bucky tells Sam confidentially. “I wasn’t even there when whatever it was happened, and frankly at this point I don’t want to know.”

“You don’t want to know,” Natasha agrees readily. “But what I do want to know is who’s going to be your best man. Or maid of honour.”

Bucky stills a little, looking from Clint to Natasha, and Sam feels bad for the guy. “Uh,” Bucky says eloquently.

“You get to be my best man, Steve,” Sam offers graciously, guiltily enjoying the baffled look on Steve’s face.

“Right.” Steve nods, looking confused. “Um. Thanks? Thanks, Sam. That means a lot to me.” He’s probably still processing, Sam decides.

“I can have two, right?” Bucky asks Sam. “Cause I’m not gonna pick between Clint and Nat.”

“You can have whatever you want,” Sam says easily, but when Bucky’s face lights up at the words it creates a strange warm feeling in Sam’s stomach.

“Awesome.” Bucky turns back to his best friends, and then he spreads his arms wide in a grand gesture. “So you guys can call yourselves whatever you want.”

“Like ‘Best Unmarried Couple’,” Clint suggests, trying to speak through the mouthful of mashed potatoes he’s swallowing.

“Okay, I take back what I just said.” Bucky looks at Natasha instead. “Natasha, you can pick whatever you want to be called.”

“I’m above titles,” says Natasha smoothly. “But Clint can be ring bearer, and I’ll walk you down the aisle.”

Bucky relaxes. “Sounds like a plan.”

“We don’t even have rings,” Sam says seriously. “Where are we going to get rings on such short notice?”

“Wait,” says Steve. “What do you mean ‘short notice’?”

“Oh,” Bucky grins, leaning over to press his entire left side against Sam. “Didn’t we say? We’re going to get married on this cruise ship.”

“You two have known each other for all of six hours!” Steve exclaims incredulously.

“And it's been six of the best goddamn hours of my life,” Bucky retorts.

“You spent like, two of those hours in bed,” Clint reminds him.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, and Clint covers his own face with his hand.

“No details! No details!”

Peggy is eyeing Sam. “You've both agreed to this?”

It takes effort not to squirm under the scrutiny. “Yeah. Bucky and I made the decision together,” Sam says to her, squeezing an arm around Bucky's shoulders. That fact was true enough, right?

“I never wanted a big wedding,” Bucky offers casually. “And the ship's got a great view, so why not?”

“I can't believe you're getting married on this ship,” Clint complains. “How am I supposed to come up with the world's greatest ring-bearer-slash-best-man speech with this kind of time constraint?”

“Get creative,” Natasha responds briskly.

“I suppose you'll have the first mate perform the ceremony?” Peggy asks thoughtfully.

“Are you going to call your mom?” Steve questions, leaning forward.

“My mom is gonna be thrilled. Well, about the marriage part, not the on-a-cruise-ship part. She's gonna be pissed about that. Her and Becca,” Bucky muses. “But y’know. ‘Yolo’.”

Sam pulls back a little to stare at him. “You did not just say that. You did not just talk about us getting married and ‘yolo’ in one sentence.”

“I didn't. That was like, at _least_ two sentences.”

“My mama is going to throw a fit when she meets you if you keep this attitude up,” Sam informs Bucky seriously. “She is already going to hate me for doing this without her in the middle of the ocean.”

“You love my attitude,” Bucky replies lazily, spearing some chicken onto his fork. “That's why we're getting married in the middle of the ocean. Because you love me so much you can't wait for dry land to sweep me off my feet.”

“Right,” Sam responds, rolling his eyes. “That's the only reason.”

“Aw. Don't tell me you're only marrying me for my hot body and pretty face.” Bucky stuffs the chicken into his mouth and frowns deeply at Sam, who has to pull himself together so he doesn't laugh and spray food all over his fake-fiance.

Steve is watching their banter with wide eyes, like he can't believe it.

“Wow,” Natasha deadpans. “You're hilarious, James. He must be marrying you for your incredible sense of humour.”

“He is entertaining, I'll give him that,” Sam allows generously.

“Ha,” exclaims Bucky triumphantly, swallowing his chicken. “So it _ was _ funny that you picked earlier. You can all relax now, guys. Sam isn't marrying me to take advantage of my extreme hotness and sexy bedroom eyes after all. It's cause I'm _ funny_.”

“I am going to pretend that I didn't hear that sentence come out of your mouth,” Clint says decisively, “and try to enjoy my dinner.”

“I feel like despite the fact that statement was meant to be reassuring, I'm not reassured,” Steve remarks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the three-years-ago me who wrote most of this story was truly dishing out some next level shit in terms of jokes.
> 
> tell all your friends about bucky's super hot pickup lines, because they sure as heck don't write themselves xoxo. next update will take a little longer, probably.
> 
> now the real question: barnes-wilson? wilson? wilson-barnes? barnes?


	3. subtle innuendos only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam looks at his Facebook wall, and he has to actually blink to make sure he isn't seeing things. “You announced our fake marriage on Facebook.”
> 
> “‘_Congratulations Bucky! I love you and I want to show our love to the world!_’” Bucky says sarcastically, flinging his arms up into the air like limp noodles.
> 
> About five new notifications buzz through on Sam's phone. The first comment is from Steve. It reads: 'Really.’ He then gets about seventy messages from his mama, who probably has Sam's account on her alerts.
> 
> “I hate you,” Sam says fervently.

After dinner they find a quiet spot on the deck to congregate and discuss the wedding plans. Bucky immediately drapes himself all over Sam as they collapse into deck chairs. Sam pretends to shove him off, but eventually lets Bucky tuck in next to his body and rest his skinny legs on Sam's lap.

“Don't suppose you have a tux stashed in that backpack of yours?” Clint asks Bucky.

“It's a regular backpack. Why would I have a tux in it.”

“Like Dora,” Clint says matter-of-factly, as though that explains everything.

“Natasha, remind me to change the Netflix password when we get back,” Bucky says vindictively.

Natasha waves a dismissive hand. “Already done.”

“Oh my god,” Clint says, leaning back in his chair like his mind has been blown. “Is that why it wasn’t working last week?” He pulls out his phone, presumably to check the status of the Netflix account.

“Sorry you didn’t get to watch Dora, pal,” Bucky says.

“I don’t watch Dora! You’re Dora!”

Bucky ignores him and rolls his eyes at Sam, who snorts.

“You can have access to the Netflix account if you want,” Bucky begins seriously, gesticulating.

“Thank you,” Sam deadpans.

“Yeah, you're welcome sweetheart.” Bucky grins, then leans forward and smacks a wet kiss on Sam's cheek.

Sam wipes the spit off on the back of his hand. “I ought to dump your sorry ass on the ground,” Sam gripes.

“But you _ love _ me, Sam. That's why I get to stay.” Bucky brings out the puppy eyes again, which is a dirty trick designed to crush Sam’s iron will like a bug. At least until Bucky wriggles his ass against Sam's thigh and Sam actually has to resist the very real urge to dump Barnes on the floor because _ nope_.

“So I happen to know the Captain of this ship,” Peggy says, like there hadn't been a completely different conversation going on. “He's the son of my old coworker, actually. Steve knows him.”

Steve groans. “Howard's son? Since when is he a ship's captain? I thought he was still working in management?”

“Since he thought the uniform looked good? Who knows. He must have gone back to finish working his way up the ranks. It's been years since we last saw him, but I heard he's dragged Rhodes along with him, poor fellow.” Peggy shakes her head disapprovingly.

“Tony just likes the title,” Steve mutters, pursing his lips.

“Don't be jealous darling, we all know you're the real captain here,” Peggy says, her lips twitching.

Steve scowls at her, but he's smiling and there are those little crinkles around his eyes.

“Anyways,” Peggy continues, “it won't be a problem to get permission. We just need to sort it with the crew.”

“Easy,” Bucky says confidently. “Sam and I will handle it.”

Now Sam is starting to get a little worried at how _ real _ this getting, but it isn't as though he can back out now. Plus he is totally capable of doing anything Barnes can do, so he can't chicken out, really. He has to prove he can go through with it, even if this is possibly one of the worst ideas in his entire life.

Bucky yawns and stretches like a cat, rubbing against Sam's shoulder. “First thing tomorrow,” he adds. “Carter gets us through the door, and then I use my unbelievable charm to get our way.”

“Oh, so it's your plan, but it's ‘our way’?” Sam asks rhetorically.

“Yes,” Bucky answers emphatically. “Exactly that.”

“You two already bicker like a married couple,” Clint interjects. “Where's the honeymoon period?”

“In the bedroom,” Bucky says immediately, and Sam makes a face at him.

“I think it's your filthy mind that's unbelievable,” Sam tells him.

“You love it.” Bucky yawns again, then grabs Sam's hand and pulls him up. “C'mon, time to christen your bed.” He pauses. “Again.”

“Too much information!” Clint protests loudly. “I don't want to know!”

Bucky merely slides his fingers to entwine with Sam's and smiles cheerfully. “Night everyone!”

“Why do I get the sinking feeling that you think you're in charge of this fake relationship?” Sam asks once they're out of earshot.

“Cause I am.” Bucky is still holding Sam’s hand as they wind down the hallways to their room.

“Is that your answer for everything? That you're the best at everything?”

“Yes. It drives Natasha mad.”

“Drives me mad,” Sam mutters.

“I'll add it to my new year's resolution,” Bucky replies nonchalantly. “‘Things I need to change to make my husband Sam happy.’”

Sam snorts against his will. “You're lucky I think you're funny, or I would have fake-dumped your ass hours ago.”

“Everyone thinks I'm funny,” Bucky says, seemingly as an automatic response. He retrieves their key from his shorts pocket and unlocks the door, releasing Sam's hand in the process, and his hand feels a little tingly at the sudden loss of contact.

Sam raises an eyebrow at him. “Does it ever get tiring being so predictable?”

“Nah. I like to switch things up. Especially in the bedroom.” Bucky has a huge, smug smirk on his face as he flops backwards onto his bed. “So anyways, soon as they turn in we're gonna like, jump on the bed and stuff. Make Clint cry.”

“Wait, wait. What about the crew and stuff? What are we doing with that?”

Bucky shrugs, then pulls his phone out. “Just let them in on it. I'm sure they've got a sense of humor.”

Sam shakes his head. “And if they decide they don't like it?”

“Then we either get married for real, or we just tell our friends they wouldn't do it. But I get the feeling this Tony guy would be down for messing with his friends.” Bucky frowns at his phone screen, then resumes typing.

“You say that like getting married for real is a legitimate option.”

“Samuel Thomas Wilson?” Bucky says aloud. “That you?”

What even? Sam goes to yank Bucky's phone from him. Bucky gives it up with only a minor squeak of protest. Turns out Bucky has Sam's Facebook profile pulled up, and is looking at his bio.

“Rude,” Bucky says. “I want ground rules for my stuff once we're married. What's so wrong about wanting to add my fiance on Facebook?”

“Nothing,” Sam admits. “But you could ask before you go stalking me on the internet.” Sam sends the friend request on Barnes’ phone and hands it back.

“I'll remember that for _ next _ time I want to add you on Facebook,” Bucky deadpans.

Sam accepts the request on his own phone, then goes to take a look at Bucky's profile. Barnes’ picture is some shot of him at the beach, predictably shirtless and looking pleased with himself. Sam browses through some photos of Bucky with his friends. Always laughing, always smiling. Seeing Bucky in various shots with dopey grins on his face is almost a bit cute. But not really.

“Let me see your phone for a sec,” Bucky says absently, reaching out.

Sam regards Bucky's hand with suspicion. “Why.”

Bucky shoots Sam a mild look. “I think it's only fair.”

Right. Fine. Sam hands it over cautiously, watching as Bucky flicks his gaze from one device to the other, and tapping a few times on the screens before handing Sam his phone back.

“You better not have put a dick joke as my status,” Sam gripes, going to check his feed.

“I'm classier than that,” Bucky answers. “Subtle innuendos only.”

Sam looks at his Facebook wall, and he has to actually blink to make sure he isn't seeing things. “You announced our fake marriage on Facebook.”

“‘_Congratulations Bucky! I love you and I want to show our love to the world!_’” Bucky says sarcastically, flinging his arms up into the air like limp noodles.

About five new notifications buzz through on Sam's phone. The first comment is from Steve. It reads: 'Really.’ He then gets about seventy messages from his mama, who probably has Sam's account on her alerts.

“I hate you,” Sam says fervently.

“Steve's so passive-aggressive in his comment,” Bucky comments idly, scrolling down on his screen. Sam's phone is still buzzing. “You'd think he wasn't happy for us or something.”

“He's overprotective,” Sam allows, but he knows Steve is just trying to be a good friend. “But he means well.”

“Clint just messaged me. He wants to know if we're gonna upload a couple's pic. Says our post looks a little bland.” Bucky narrows his eyes at his screen. “Should I give him some oversharing or save that for Twitter?”

“I don't know, and frankly I don't care. But you have to help me tell my mama, cause she's just messaged me about a hundred times wanting to know what's up.” Sam holds his phone out to display the little number of currently unseen messages from his mom on Facebook. The number was growing.

“I think it's pretty cool your mom has Facebook,” says Bucky appreciatively.

“My mama is cool,” Sam replies automatically. “Now what do I tell her? She's gonna kill me if I tell her it's a joke, and she's also gonna kill me if I tell her it's real and _ then _ tell her it's a joke later.”

“Block her.”

“What? I'm not gonna block my mom on Facebook!” Sam exclaims hotly.

“Relax, I’m kidding.” Bucky looks thoughtful for a moment. “Tell her I'm gonna message her and explain.”

Making an incredulous noise, Sam stares at Bucky with wide eyes. “You?”

“Yeah, me. Now tell her so she doesn't block me by accident or something.”

“Do you even know how Facebook works?” Sam retorts, but he opens up his chat. He is immediately greeted by four more messages.

> >> I can see that you've just opened this chat
> 
> >> Samuel Wilson you better answer me right this moment
> 
> >> What is going on
> 
> >> Who is that man

Cringing just a little, Sam belligerently taps out what Bucky told him. “You better not embarrass me or upset her,” Sam warns.

“As if.” Bucky rolls into a sitting position and starts tapping away at his keyboard.

Sam waits an agonizing five minutes as Bucky conveys whatever he's conveying over text interfaces until a new message pops up on his phone.

> >> Your fake fiance seems very sweet
> 
> >> Tell Peggy to take lots of pictures xoxo

There is no further response, so Sam sends a message back.

> Ok thanks and I will <<
> 
> Love you <<

There is a moment where Sam looks at the ceiling and asks God to give him strength. “How did you convince her?” Sam finally asks Bucky, after a minute has ticked by. “And if you say anything along the lines of it being ‘_the sheer magnitude of your endless charm_’, I will fight you.”

“Trade secret,” Bucky confides, now playing Candy Crush on his phone. “Moms love me.”

“That's not an answer.”

Bucky looks at him like he's slow. “I explained the situation to her. She likes me. She's okay with it. What more do you want?”

“Trade secrets, apparently, “ Sam shoots back.

“Well, I only give those out to people I'm married to, so I guess you'll have to wait. Clint's been after my parent-wrangling secrets for years, and he’s the most annoying person on the planet when he wants something out of you, so don't think you can bother me enough that I'll cave in.”

“I’m sure you're the most annoying person on the planet,” says Sam, but without any real bite to it. He lies down on his bed and sighs.

Bucky watches him out of the corner of his eye, looking pensive. “Y’know, you really don't have to do this if you don't want to. I just thought it'd be fun, is all.”

“Nah.” Sam waves it off. “Can't pass up the opportunity to finally get Steve back. He was insufferable in college. Still is, some of the time. It's like he minored in being a little shit. But he’s got a big heart. He’s an amazing friend. Don't regret knowing him.”

“Sounds nice. Natalia and I used to be like that. Always sniping at each other. I loved driving her nuts. I thought she hated my guts sometimes, but I guess that's just how we got along at first. She used to have a real hard time letting people in. And now she's got Clint, who’s a huge goober, but we love him anyways. He’s a ‘_pizza-loving disaster with a dog and a sidekick_’. That's what his Twitter bio says.”

“Sounds like fun at parties,” says Sam.

“He’s a riot. Best beer pong partner a guy could ask for, even though he gets incoherent when plastered. Natasha's the best one at holding her liquor. I've only ever seen her tipsy once before, and she was in eight-inch heels or something.”

“Peggy’s like that too. Scary, actually. Steve is a lightweight, though, which makes about as much sense as anything else. You know how many times I've had to haul his ass out of someone's party ‘cause he had one drink too many? Too many times.”

“He looks like he weighs a ton,” Bucky says sympathetically.

Sam set his buzzing phone on the bedside table. “He does.”

“Can't believe they're not back yet. It's like they know what we've got planned for them,” Bucky complains. “I'm bored.”

“Well, we've got a wedding to plan, so maybe you can start on that,” Sam says, only with mild sarcasm.

“Nah. Natasha is gonna be all over that.” Bucky rolls over to face Sam. “Let's do our wedding vows.”

“What, we're not going traditional?”

“No.” Bucky pulls a face. “We're like, madly in love and shit. We're going to have the sappiest vows ever. Ten bucks in it for you if you make Rogers and Barton cry. Fifty if you get Natasha.”

Sam can't help it. He starts laughing. “Oh, man. I can even imagine that. But Natasha doesn't seem like the teary-eyed type.”

“She tries to pretend it doesn't happen, but it does.”

“I can see Steve crying, but only if we can get him to buy into it.” Sam pointedly stares at Bucky, as though it's all his fault. “You gotta start treating me right, Barnes. Your bad innuendos aren't gonna make the cut. You gotta woo Steve like you did my mama. That's the kind of guy he is.”

“Does anyone even say ‘woo’ anymore,” Bucky replies blandly. “But okay. I'll up the suck-up tomorrow.”

“If we're doing our own vows, are we writing them together?” Sam asks aloud.

“Hell no. Mine are nice and private until the special day, Wilson. I want to see the look on your face real-time when I say my piece.”

“Fine,” Sam agrees, already trying to think of a way to top whatever Bucky's got planned.

Bucky plays some animal videos on his phone for them to watch until Sam warns him that he better stop if they don't want to be in the middle of laughing their asses off when their friends come back from dinner.

“I'm bored,” Bucky repeats. “I want to jump on the bed already.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Go ahead.”

“It's no fun if it's just me. Then I look like an idiot.”

“Like I said.” Sam gestures for Bucky to go ahead.

“You're mean.” Bucky pouts, sitting up and crossing his legs on his bed. He picks up his pillow and lamely chucks it at Sam in an attempt to get attention.

“You're a literal five-year-old.”

“You're marrying a _literal_ _five_-_year_-_old_,” Bucky says, mimicking Sam's tone.

“If we jump on the bed,” Sam starts. “Will you stop complaining.”

“Yes,” Bucky says immediately.

Sam sighs. “I'm not paying for any damages.”

“We'll be married. You'll be paying for half.”

* * *

“Oh my god,” says Clint, “I am so glad I can just take out my hearing-aids.”

Natasha pulls earplugs out of her travel kit. The two of them are in their room, and they can hear bed-banging from the other side of the wall. “I feel bad for Steve. No way he brought anything, and Peggy's not going to share-- she's only got one pair of earplugs. Thank god you snore, or I wouldn't have anything either.”

  
_ Too bad, _ Clint signs, now having settled into blissfully quiet oblivion on their bed. _ Steve seems like a nice guy. _

* * *

Eventually even Bucky gets tired of making obscene noises while bouncing on the bed. He and Sam collapse in a silently giggling heap on the small bed.

“Okay, that was a little fun,” Sam allows.

“Excuse you,” Bucky says. “Sex with me is more than a _ little _ fun. Even when it's fake sex.”

Sam rolls his eyes. Looking over at Bucky, Sam can see his hair has fallen out of it's loose bun, the brown locks framing Bucky's flushed cheeks.

Bucky, noticing Sam checking him out, winks.

Sam groans and pulls away to his own bed. “Goodnight, Barnes.”

“Night, Sam.” Bucky's voice is maybe softer than normal, but Sam chalks it up to wanting to keep the volume down so their neighbours won't overhear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this chapter is shorter, but that's because i couldn't figure out a better place to end it when i was writing it. any bets on who is gonna have the best wedding vows? please leave a comment below!


	4. a thousand words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam smiles, and maybe Bucky is feeling a little sleepy after all their activities last night because he blurts out, “You look really cute when you smile.”
> 
> Sam blinks at him, looking self-conscious.
> 
> “Uh, you know. That little gap you got.” Bucky points at his own teeth awkwardly. “It's cute.”

“Fake wedding!” Captain Tony Stark exclaims in delight. “Sign me up!”

Bucky and Tony high five while Sam exchanges a weary look with James Rhodes, who is Tony's first officer.

“Can't wait to see Rogers,” Tony says gleefully.

“So like, I was thinking this Sunday,” Bucky begins. “That way everyone on Facebook has time to RSVP to a livestream.”

“Livestream,” Sam mutters. “Why do we need a livestream?”

“You think Steve is gonna buy this if we don't invite your mom somehow?” Bucky asks seriously. Sam's mom is nice, and Bucky really wants her to be at their fake wedding.

“I can set that up, no problem!” Tony tells him. “Might be a bit choppy with the wi-fi, but if we time it right we'll be close to or at a port…”

“So, we can trust you not to say anything to anyone, right?” Sam says, like he feels the need to clarify.

“I am shocked and offended.” Tony holds a hand to his heart. “I am a man of my word, Wilson. I'd never spill any confidential information.”

Rhodes looks as though he wants to say something to that, but keeps his mouth shut in a firm line.

“Awesome,” says Bucky. “So I figure Carter and Natasha - Natasha is my planning person, Carter is Wilson’s - are gonna want to do most of the planning. So you can talk with them about that stuff.”

“‘That stuff’,” Sam repeats. “You and your continued eloquence on the subject of our marriage keeps astounding me, Barnes.”

Bucky debates flipping him off, but thinks better of it. “I'm a man of few words, Wilson.” Bucky licks his lips and gives Sam a toothy grin that makes Sam snort and look away, which is the desired effect.

“The two of you are like frenemies or what?” Tony asks rhetorically, eyeballing them skeptically. Next to him, Rhodes clears his throat. “But okay, okay. Anyways. Out you go, cause I've got a ship to run. It's all very impressive and important and too complicated for you mere mortals.”

“Thanks, Captain Stark,” Sam says politely.

“It's nothing,” Tony says dismissively. “Scott is gonna be so excited to cater hot food. He's got some sort of vendetta against cold dairy products.”

“But you guys have machines that make the ice cream?” Sam asks, confused.

“Beats me.” Tony shrugs.

* * *

The ship docks shortly after that. The group descends and wanders around until they find a popular tourist spot to eat. Breakfast is an awfully quiet affair in which Steve can't look Sam or Bucky in the eye for more than a few seconds, much to Peggy's amusement.

“He's not a prude,” Peggy says loyally. “The two of you were just rather _ loud_.”

“Clint took his hearing-aids out,” Natasha informs them. “You two were disgustingly loud.”

“Further proof that--” Bucky starts, only for Sam to clap a hand over his mouth.

“None of that at breakfast,” Sam says cruelly.

Bucky licks the hand on his mouth in retaliation. But though Sam’s face twitches, Sam does not remove his hand. Impressive.

“No gross stuff,” Clint seconds Sam’s motion.

Sam starts to eat his scrambled eggs with his other hand while Bucky watches, silent.

“Does Bucky get to eat?” Natasha asks, a smirk on her face.

Sam looks consideringly in Bucky's direction. Bucky tries to widen his eyes as innocently as possible without seeming fake.

“Nah.”

Bucky scowls. He could squirm away, but that means Sam wins. So instead he starts to run his tongue all over Sam's palm.

“You're gross,” Sam tells him, scrunching his nose up. “But seeing as you've already contaminated my hand with your spit, I don't see why I should remove it.”

Bucky's swearing is muffled by Sam's palm. Well, if Sam doesn't care…

He starts up a quiet encore of last night's vocal performance against Sam's hand, complete with wet kissy noises.

Steve promptly chokes and sprays orange juice on his plate. Peggy has to smack him on the back, mild distaste colouring her features as she glares at Bucky.

Tightening his hand around Bucky's mouth and lower jaw, Sam sighs. “Really, Barnes? We gonna do this here?”

“I feel like I've walked into the start of an orgy scene,” Clint stage-whispers.

“Don't make me gag you,” Natasha says evenly, not even looking up from her fruit salad.

“Sorry,” Clint says, immediately chastised. “But seriously? Anyone else get that vibe?”

Bucky shuts up. He has drool working its way down his chin and, subsequently, Sam's hand and arm. His neck is also kind of uncomfortable. Bucky reaches for his utensils and spears an apple slice, making pleading eye-contact with Sam.

“You gonna behave?” Sam asks, unfazed.

Bucky nods reluctantly.

Sam removes his hand and wipes it off on Bucky's napkin, then resumes eating like nothing happened.

Bucky eats his apple slices with a suspicious expression, but Sam just keeps ignoring him.

“I think that's the longest you've been quiet about anything,” Natasha muses to Bucky. “Sam is really something, isn't he?”

Bucky opens his mouth to argue but hesitates before speaking, flickering his eyes over to Sam. He sticks his tongue out at Natasha instead.

“Now we know who's in charge in the bedroom,” Clint says. Beside him, Natasha opens a banana and holds it out. Clint takes it ruefully and starts chewing. “Hate bananas,” he says around a mushy mouthful.

“I'm offended you've known me this long and you could think that,” Bucky grumbles, but Sam is smirking.

“So Bucky and I agreed on this Sunday for the wedding,” Sam begins conversationally.

“My sister Becca is gonna be hosting a livestream,” Bucky adds.

“That's in two days,” Steve interjects. “Will you guys be able to plan everything before then?”

“The planning of this impromptu engagement falls under the territory of the womenfolk,” Clint answers wisely. “Who are blessed with leadership and organizational skills beyond our comprehension.”

Peggy laughs at that. “He's right, you know. None of you are going to know a thing about wedding planning. Except Sam, perhaps.”

“Sam and I are writing our own vows,” Bucky says proudly.

Sam smiles, and maybe Bucky is feeling a little sleepy after all their activities last night because he blurts out, “You look really cute when you smile.”

Sam blinks at him, looking self-conscious.

“Uh, you know. That little gap you got.” Bucky points at his own teeth awkwardly. “It's cute.”

“I really did a number on you, huh,” is all Sam responds with, but his cheeks are slightly flushed, and he seems pleased.

“Nah,” Bucky says, finally finding his confidence, “that was me with you. Last night.”

“Just had to go and ruin a good thing,” says Sam exasperatedly, but his tone is light and humorous.

“Got your speech planned yet, Rogers?” Natasha asks innocently.

Steve scrunches his face up under the scrutiny. “I'm working on it.”

“He works best under pressure,” Peggy tells Bucky confidently. “It'll be done. Now what's this about a livestream?”

The morning slides easily into planning, with Clint and Sam bickering lightly over side dish options as Natasha does up digital invitations.

“Sorry for taking up your vacation,” Bucky says to Carter, once they've got a quiet moment together. They’re on their way to sort the catering with Scott Lang.

“Not a problem at all. I'm enjoying myself, really.” Peggy is hashing out details on a small tablet as she walks, her cherry-red nails tapping out notes on the touchscreen keyboard. “Sam is an excellent friend, and he deserves an excellent wedding.” She tears her gaze away momentarily to glance at Bucky, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly.

“You don't think this is weird? Like Steve does?” he presses.

“Do I think it's a bit sudden? Yes, but I'm not so surprised. Sam has always had a soft spot for strays.”

Bucky feels a little strange at that. “What do you mean?”

“You're listless, Barnes. Looking for some purpose. And you couldn't find that in relationships. But I don't think you need me to tell you that. If you think Sam can give you that direction, you're probably right. I'm just not sure you need to marry him to do it.”

That renders him silent for a whole minute. “I'm not like that,” he finally says. “I know what I'm doing.”

“Alright,” Peggy agrees, too easily, and Bucky knows then that her words will bother him for the rest of the day.

* * *

Planning an impromptu wedding doesn't sound like a lot of work, but Natasha and Peggy are determined to make the occasion a memorable one. By the end of their second day of vacation, there are enough details for Sam to drown in.

Natasha charms some of the wait staff into loaning out some spare dress shirts, shoes and pants. But Bucky steadfastly refuses the idea of a tie, and Sam has to agree, because it is _ boiling _ outside, and he's not going to sweat it all out in borrowed dress wear.

“Oh, and your sister says 'fuck you, stop ignoring my messages _ Bucket Barnes_’,” Natasha reports over dinner.

Sam and Clint snort with laughter as Bucky glowers at them both.

“Bucket Barnes,” Sam repeats. “I think I'm gonna enjoy the story behind this.”

“No one is allowed to tell the story,” Bucky glares at Clint and Natasha. “I have dirt on you both, don't forget. I might not know what happened in Budapest, but I know other things. _ Bad things_.”

“As your future-husband, doesn't Sam get to know?” Natasha asks amusedly. She doesn't seem very worried.

“No. You can tell him when I'm dead and gone.” Bucky gives them all one last angry stare before he pulls out his phone and mutters “Becca's a huge jerk” under his breath as he starts to type.

“Clint and I are going to head to the casino for blackjack,” Steve says into the lulled conversation. “Since you guys don't need us. Right?” He looks at Peggy for confirmation.

“Have fun,” Peggy tells them.

“Remember the limit,” Natasha says evenly.

“Y’know,” says Bucky casually, standing up, “maybe Sam and I could go w—”

“Sit down,” Peggy and Natasha say together.

Bucky sits down.

“Nice try, Bucket,” Sam comments.

“Shut up, Samuel.”

* * *

“Nnnggh.” Bucky flops down onto his bed. “This _ is _ a vacation, right?”

“Didn't know marrying me was such a chore, Barnes,” Sam replies, rolling his eyes.

“Not you.” Bucky waves him off. “It's the girls.”

“Why don't you work on your vows, then,” Sam suggests.

Bucky sighs, long suffering. “I told you, they're a surprise.”

“How are you going to find time to write them, then? We share a room, in case you forgot,” Sam retorts. “Besides, it'll be easier if I'm actually in the room to inspire you.” He stretches back onto his bed in his best 'relaxed’ pose.

The corners of Bucky's mouth twitch a little. “Fine. You win. But don't let it be said that I didn't put up a fight. And no peeking.”

“Cross my heart,” Sam tells him.

Bucky works his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, and after a few seconds starts to type away.

Reassured of some peace and quiet, Sam retrieves his headphones from his suitcase and settles in to do a little writing of his own.

Bucky's certainly an interesting guy. He is funny and, unfortunately, quite attractive. Sam hasn't clashed this hard with anyone since he first met Steve. And there had definitely been a bit of a crush there, with Steve. Steve got on Sam's nerves in all the right ways, but Steve was also a loving, caring, ride-or-die type guy. So Sam knew that his type, if that was even a thing, wasn't just classified as ‘hot asshole’.

If Sam was actually dating Bucky, it would be because he was more than just some cute guy at the bar who gave him lines. He had to be empathetic; he had to have a big heart. Sam didn't settle for someone who wasn't willing to put effort into those kinds of things. Someone who cared, someone who was committed. Someone Sam could share some common ground with.

Now Bucky had said that he wasn't typically the committed type, but Sam was pretty sure Bucky checked off those other requirements. Despite being an outrageous flirt and general bad-mouthed disaster, Bucky had never been anything but respectful of Sam's boundaries; he was frequently checking in to make sure things were alright with Sam. There was that underlying layer of affection when he ribbed his friends, how he seemed to know when to not push things too far.

And there was a bit of vulnerability there, Sam could see. Sometimes he could see it in the way Bucky held himself, or the way he said things, like he was unsure how they would be taken. It was nice to see that bit of normality beneath Bucky's cool, posturing exterior.

So okay, Sam had a good start to his own vows based off of five minutes deliberation alone. Just meant that he was really good at it. At writing wedding vows.

Bucky looks up from his phone, his gaze resting steadily on Sam. Sam can feel the weight of it even before he actually spots Bucky watching him in his peripheral vision.

“Need some help, Barnes?” asks Sam.

“No.” Bucky juts out his jaw a little, his lips pursed in a pink pucker. “I’m just lookin’ at my inspiration.”

“Sure, sure,” Sam agrees readily, trying not to stare at Bucky's mouth. “But just so you know, all my sides are good sides.”

Bucky laughs a little at that, rolling his body across his bed so that he’s got his elbows propped under his chest, blinking his puppy-dog eyes at Sam. “I might get caught up in those dreamy eyes of yours, huh? Then I can tell Natasha I tried my best, but couldn’t get my vows done in time.”

“What about our bet?” Sam can’t help but ask.

“If I don’t have vows, you can’t win. So it would make our verbal agreement null and void.”

Sam swings his legs over the edge of his own bed, resting his forearms on his thighs as he stares at Bucky. “You trying to chicken your way out, Barnes?”

“Nah. Trying to laze my way out of it.”

“I’m hurt. Can’t you find some nice things to say about me?” Okay, maybe it bothers Sam more than he is willing to admit.

“I got plenty to say.” Bucky says, huffing. He holds up his phone and waves it around in the air. “I was just kidding. Don’t you worry, Wilson. You’re gonna be beggin’ to really marry me once I’m through with my vows.”

“We’ll see about that,” Sam retorts. He watches as Bucky rolls back into the center of his bed. “You know what? I think I want to change our bet.”

“Yeah,” Bucky responds absently. “What to?”

“I make Steve and Clint cry, and you gotta tell me the bucket story.”

“No way. You make _ Natasha _ cry, and you can have the bucket story.”

Sam shakes his head. “Is it really that bad?”

“If Natasha finds out I told you, she’ll give you the video. And I can’t have that shit in the wrong hands.” Bucky, now lying on his back, raises his hands in surrender. “Guy’s gotta preserve his dignity somehow.”

“Seeing as you can’t do that through your swim shorts anymore, I don’t find that hard to believe.”

“I look hot in my swim shorts.”

Sam doesn’t respond for a moment. “I don’t think I’d be able to get Natasha to cry,” he admits. “I don’t know her well enough.”

“Give it your best shot. We can keep the money on Steve and Clint.” Bucky doesn't sound very troubled, which is mildly irritating.

Sam cracks his knuckles and settles in to write the best wedding vows ever.

* * *

“You know, still I can't believe all our friends and family just totally bought the fact that we fell in love in like six hours and decided to get married.” Bucky sits up, his expression pensive. It's been maybe thirty minutes, Sam realises.

“And I can't believe I agreed to fake-marry you. We all do things we regret, Barnes.”

“I mean,” Bucky continues, ignoring Sam's snide commentary, “I know I'm irresponsible and irresistible, but this is a bit of a stretch, even for me. Your friend Carter even gave me the 'be good to our son’ chat.”

“Peggy and Steve aren't my parents,” Sam says, rolling his eyes.

“Same difference,” Bucky waves the objection off. “Anyways, I'm done my vows. So out with the lights. Your attractive fiance needs his beauty sleep.”

“Sure,” Sam replies. “Gimme a sec to put some stuff away.”

Bucky looks at him curiously. “Did you finish?”

“I always make sure my partner finishes first,” Sam says, without missing a beat.

“Kinky,” says Bucky. “But I still need sleep. The good sex gotta wait for our honeymoon, pal.”

“Figures you've been holding out on me.” Sam tidies up his clothes for tomorrow, not watching Barnes as he wriggles out of his jeans.

“Good night, Sam.” Bucky sounds almost fond.

“Night, Bucky.”

Sam gets up and shuts the lights, then crawls back onto his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sing song voice* they're in looooooooooove. please drop me a comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
